Stiles the cat
by GoldenAppleOfEris
Summary: Only stiles could wake up one morning as a cat. Or were cat, in this case. Only Stiles could pull off a fluffy tale and satellite ears like he was born with them. Only stiles could get Derek to drop the grumpy killer-wolf facade by the sheer power of his adorability and reel him in for a cuddle.
1. Chapter 1

"Well that's not normal."

"God Scott it's like you can read my freaking mind."

"How did it happen stiles? Did you get bitten?"

"Nah… just woke up like this. Do you think it has anything to do with the, you know…"

"The Nogitsune?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe? It's not like I'm any kind of expert, but shouldn't you be half fox then?"

"Fuck if I know, dude. Let's just call Derek."

"Why do you want to call him, Stiles?"

"Because one way or another, he always has something to do with this kind of shit."

…

Dear diary

I'm on the chessboard now. Even more officially than before. I'd even get my own label if I had any idea what to call me.

Scott has been pretty useless, but it's not like I called him over with high expectations. All he's really done so far is gawk at me, and ask questions I don't have the answer to. I shifted back after about half an hour, which was a bigger relief than I care to admit. Despite how nice it was to be supernatural for a while, I certainly couldn't go outside looking the way I did.

Derek said he would could around 110am which was fifteen minutes ago. The more anxious I am, the closer the shift feels.

This is not going to be easy, or enjoyable in the slightest.

Stiles

…

My phone buzzes for the first time in weeks. I'm not even sure why I still charge it. Although me, the introverted recluse getting rid of the last thing that ties me to society, probably wouldn't be a good idea.

I take my time before stretching out and retrieving my phone. It's stiles, and he says he needs help with something. My stomach lurches uncomfortably, like phantom hunger pains. I realize the simile isn't too far off, except it isn't food I'm starved of. Its people, friends, companionship…. Pack.

I tell Stiles I'll be there at ten, then go back to doing virtually nothing. No need for Stiles to know this is the first eventful thing that's happened this week, and I would be dropping literally nothing if I drove over there right now. No need for stiles to know how much of a lonely, sad hermit I've become.

…

Scott's tapping on my arm.

"What do you want Scott?" I snap, freshly out of patience. It's been a long morning of prodding, questioning, moaning, shifting and waiting for Derek. Who is now an hour late. What the hell could he be doing that is more important than this?

"Stiles, can I see your beta form again please?" Scott begs.

"Why?" I grouch, flopping down on the couch beside him, "I've shifted often enough now that I know it's not for scientific purposes."

"Yeah, but your just so cute!" he proclaims, ruffling my hair.

"If I do will you stop being an ass?" I bargain.

"Sure," he agrees, watching my face eagerly.

Shifting isn't hard, in fact it feels really good to drop the human features. Like I'm taking on my true form, not the other way around.

Scott grins, and I can't help grinning back.

"Do you think you can shift fully?" he asks, and my good mood is swallowed like an alcoholics final drops of gin.

"How would I know," I snarl, and he snickers at the sight of my fangs.

"Well it is your body he retorts, and reaches over to stroke my inhuman ear.

"My body which I've had since this morning," I huff swatting his hand away, "I'm practically a new born child. You may as well have asked a baby if it can somersault ."

"Your not a baby Stiles, even if you do whine like one."

"Yeah, well you-"

Derek choses that exact moment to walk in.

…

Oh my God. Only Stiles could get himself turned into a freaking werecat.

He's stretched out across the couch like he's been granted supreme powers by the god of comfort and laziness. I take in his black, satellite ears that flicker in my direction, his slit pupil eyes that widen in surprise, his finely clawed hands that tense against the couch and his elegant tale. It swishes softly along the floor, and I notice small white blotches that disrupt the otherwise flawless fur.

"Wow, Stiles, I think you've out done your self this time," I say struggling to keep it together. And failing. I haven't smiled for so long, it feels like nothing short of the end of the world can hold it back now.

"Derek, wow, I can't believe your laughing at me right now." Stiles whines and I instantly feel bad.

"It's not that I'm laughing at you Stiles, it's just that- you look so right as a cat. Like it's what you've been all along, we just never noticed it." I try placate him and redeem myself.

Stiles frowns ruminatively and says, "It's weird that you say that, because it's literally how it feels."

"O-kay," Scott says from his seat by Stiles. I'm gonna go, give you two some one on one, alpha-beta time."

"Sure," Stiles says and I can't help feeling more comfortable now that he's left.

"You can come sit if you want," Stiles suggests timidly. It's like a switch has turned, and the feline laziness has morphed into cautious curiosity.

I nod mutely and take the seat beside him. Stiles is perched on the edge of the seat, looking ready to bolt. His tail sways anxiously along the floor, and brushes against me as I sit down.

"Sorry," he says hastily, grabbing has tail and attempting to keep it still in his lap, "I'm still getting the hang of every thing."

"That's fine," I say, completely distracted by the way his ears swivel towards the sound of my voice, "Can I pet them?"

Stiles blushes darkly, "Oh um, sure."

They feel like silk between my fingers. His body trembles alarmingly and I begin to withdraw, only to realize he is purring. His slitted pupils are blown wide, and his expression is overwhelmingly blissed out.

"God your adorable," I gasp, and pull him into my lap. The purring increases tenfold, "I swear Stiles, if you go looking for a cure for this I will never forgive you."

"Then stay," he bargains, burrowing further into my arms, "Stay and we can figure out all the how's and why's tomorrow."

"Deal."


	2. Chapter 2

"Have you told your dad yet? About the werecat thing. "

"God no."

"Why?"

"He didn't believe me when I told him I was gay, Derek. Why would he believe me about this?"

"Why don't you just prove it to him?"

"For the same reason I won't just prove to him that I'm gay… I'm not a bloody circus animal."

"I swear you never used to have this many sensibilities, Stiles. Being a cat has made you delightfully pompous."

"Pompous?! How dare you? If I seem more arrogant as a cat it's because I can finally see how superior I am to you ruffian dogs, and I've had to adjust me self importance to match it."

"Stiles…"

"Yes Derek."

"I think I love you."

"We haven't even kissed yet!"

"It's not about the kissing."

"You say that now, but what if I'm such a horrible kisser you change your mind."

"…"

"Don't give me that look! You honestly could! "

"Not in a million years Stiles. Not in a trillion, billion years. "

…

Dear diary

It's easy being around Derek. He understands what it feels like to be so alone in what you are, and so desperate not to have to hide it.

Over the past couple weeks Derek tightly wound exterior has begun to unwind. Like a deer stuck in barbed wire, it's taken slow movements and incessant untangling. With each wire I pull away, I get closer to seeing who Derek really is. In a way, so does Derek.

After the conversation we had, Derek kissed me passionately my heart nearly burst with the force of it. He licked my fangs and sucked my tongue until I was groaning into his mouth, and he was whispering declarations of love into mine.

When he was satisfied his point had been proven, he withdrew and pulled me into his lap. I started purring immediately, which was completely embarrassing. He just laughed at my flustered face, and scratched with gentle reverence at my ridiculously large ears.

When I realize my tail had wrapped itself around his waist I blushed even harder.

Then he told me I was so fucking aborable it blew his mind, and sucked hickies onto the pale skin of my neck. The cat part of me kind of wishes I didn't have super healing, so the shape of Derek's teeth wouldn't fade so quickly.

I think I love him, too.

Stiles

…

"We have to tell your dad." I say, dreading the response. Stiles glares at me, his ears flattening against his long, ruffled hair.

"Tell him what exactly," he says, his tones saccharine and deadly, "The cat part or the gay part."

I try to remember the days when I didn't fear him. Though truth be told, it's not the slit pupils or razor sharp, retractable claws that terrify me, but the potential of him banishing me from his life.

I'm not sure I can bear the thought of stiles leaving me at this point. I've always been a 'all or nothing' kind of person. Now that Stiles has my everything, him walking away would leave me with nothing all over again.

"Well?" Stiles demands, and I jump slightly.

"Both," I tell him, "I know your opinions on it, but I also know your tearing your self up inside hiding this from him. You should be able to stroll through your own house comfortable in who you are, and what you are."

Wrong words, I realize, as Stiles bares his teeth and hisses at me. The angrier he gets, the more the cat seems to shine through.

"Really Derek," he snaps, finally slinking off his bed and stalking towards me at intimidating speeds.

"What am I, then? Tell me please, because I would really like to know. I've scoured the bestiary, the internet, hell I even asked Deaton I was so desperate. I still have no clue what I am, or how I came to be. So please, before you tell my dad what I am, how about you tell me first!"

We stand in silence for a few moments, chest to chest, Stiles breathing heavily as the anger finally cools into sadness.

Tears slide down his red cheeks and I feel the very animalistic to lick them off. Instead I envelop him in my arms, and wish that a werewolf's ability to siphon off pain extended to that of an emotional nature.

"I'm sorry Derek," he gasps between sobs, "Please don't leave me."

"Never," I try reassure him, carding my fingers over his supine ears, "Never in millions and billions of years would I ever leave the man I love."

…

Derek's right of course. I can see that, now that my sea of tears has rubbed the sharp shards in my heart down to smooth edges. Not knowing what I am doesn't change what I am, and I need to accept it with or without a label to put on my chess piece.

I think Derek is asleep. We're lying in my bed, pressed as tightly together as possible. My head is tucked under his chin, resting on his chest, and with every rise and fall of breath I feel reassured and comforted.

It's easy to fall asleep, tumbling straight after Derek into the peacefully dark abyss.

…

The sheriff drove his car into the driveway. It had been a long day at the station, trying to muddle his way though decade-old police reports. Trying to use his new enlightenment of the supernatural to make sense of things long since disregarded as impossible. It was frightening just how many cases he was going to have to reopen somehow, and undoubtedly the source of his pounding headache.

The last thing he needed to see when he opened his door was the sight of a cat-like version of his son octopused around two-time murder suspect Derek Hale atop said sons bed and fast asleep.

"Fuuuuuuuuuck, what do I do?"

…

Dear Diary

So the good news is that my dad knows everything (Mostly) and I didn't even need to explain all that much. Which in no ways lessens the feeling of burning humiliation, but at least it's something. Even if it did mean Derek had to wake up to the sight of my dad's shotgun pointing at his head.

Stiles


End file.
